The Princessy Princess and Her Suitable Suitor
In Rarity’s dreams, Rainbow Dash was in love with her.
Of course, in Rarity’s dreams, everypony was in love with her. Even while awake, Rarity suspected most ponies were probably enamored with her. She was young and beautiful and successful, after all. She knew that not all ponies loved her. She wasn’t a vain mare. But most of those who hadn’t already fallen in love with her only couldn’t because they had allowed jealousy to cloud their hearts.
Being gorgeous and intelligent and confident and selfless tended to inspire jealousy in others. Rarity had come to accept that some ponies would simply insist on being entirely frustrating and unreasonable, and those ponies probably desperately wanted to be her.
So she allowed them their petty grudges, out of sympathy. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to live life as a lesser pony. Just dreadful, she was certain.
But this wasn’t real life. This was a dream, and in dreams, even the most humble of mares are allowed to indulge in a bit of vanity now and then. So, in Rarity’s dreams, everypony was in love with her. And in this particular dream, as many of Rarity’s dreams seemed to go, Rainbow Dash was the particular pony who was particularly in love with her.
Rainbow Dash also appeared to be in love with condensed tomato soup. And so did Rarity, apparently.
But Rarity was mostly certain that Dash was more in love with her than with the tomato soup, and that was what counted.
The dream had begun with Rarity wallowing in pitiful, yet still classy and attractive, sorrow.
Rarity, despondent, dressed all in black, tears burning in her eyes, threw open the doors to her bedchambers in her princessy castle and strode out onto her balcony. Because she was, obviously, a princess who lived in a castle. Just as she deserved to be in waking life, deserved much more so than Twilight.
Not that Rarity believed Twilight didn’t deserve her ascension to Princesshood. The way Twilight naively played at her books and her spells and her hayburgers was… cute, a little bit, sometimes. Rarity could understand why Celestia might have developed a pitying form of affection for the frumpy academic, but what she could not fathom was why Celestia would choose Twilight over Rarity to be the next Princess of Equestria. Surely, upon seeing Twilight and Rarity standing side-by-side, anyone would agree that Rarity appeared the more regal, the more resplendent, the more blessed of the two.
Rarity was not jealous. No, not at all. Jealousy looked unsightly on any mare, and Rarity had never once looked unsightly in all her life. She was simply confused. But she was certain Celestia would realize her mistake soon.
And so Rarity had thrown open the doors to her bedchambers and strode out onto her balcony, and she now cried out to the moon and the stars and the heavens all, “Oh, why! Oh, when! Oh, why! Oh, when will I be loved as I deserve? Oh, why have I yet not found a suitable suitor? When will I hear soft sweet nothings whispered in my ear by a lover worthy of my love? Why is my castle empty and my bed cold?”
The moon and the stars and the heavens all took pity on her. They answered her desperate call, and their voices traveled upon the winds like butterflies in flight, “Oh, Rarity, Jewel of Raritopia, Fashionista Supreme, Most Deserving Princess and Much More Deserving of Princesshood than Twilight Sparkle, you are the most stunningly gorgeous mare that has ever lived. The moon shines only to illuminate your perfect pony princess form. The stars themselves are wracked with jealousy at the sight of your astronomically awesome posterior. The heavens all exist to proclaim your glory alone.”
“Thank you,” Rarity called. “Your words are like melt-in-your mouth triple-muncho-choco fudgsicles to my ears, but they do not cure my loneliness. My dearest friends, please gaze upon the earth and the sea and the forests with your infinite and far-seeing eyes, and tell me does your sight anywhere fall upon a pony deserving of the love of a princess as selfless and brilliant and glamorous as I?”
The moon and the stars and the heavens all turned their gaze upon the land and searched.
Rarity waited. Her heart ached.
“Oh, Rarity,” the moon and stars and heavens all finally declared, “Grace of the Gods, Champion of Glitter, Most Deserving Princess and Obviously Much More Capable of Appreciating the Finer Delicacies of Princesshood and Castle Ownership than Twilight Sparkle, we have searched the earth for a pony deserving of your attentions.”
“And what have you found?”
“We have searched the earth for a pony deserving of your attentions,” the moon and stars and heavens all said again, who had a weakness for repetition and dramatic tension. “And we have found the earth lacking. There is no pony alive, who has ever lived, or who will ever live who is worthy of your love.”
Rarity wept.
She had given everything to Equestria, her heart, her soul, her entire being. She had asked for only one thing in return.
When Twilight had realized her own unworthiness and made the gracious choice to step down as Princess of Friendship, the Kingdom of Equestria had been thrown into an uproar. Ponies didn’t know what to believe in, what to live for, who to trust.
Ponies left their homes and took to the streets, got involved with the wrong sort of crowds, joined gangs, loitered on street corners, shoplifted mostly worthless snacks and sweets from convenience stores, rode motorcycles, and—the worst of it all—wore leather pants.
Rarity had seen leather coming back into style and known that something had to be done. The tide had to be halted before leather became widely accepted enough to reappear on the Manehatten runways. Somepony had to stand up for what was right. Somepony had to stand up against the leather pants.
And that somepony had to be her.
Rarity accepted Celestia’s begged and undeserved forgiveness for making the wrong choice in Twilight, gave up her life in her small-town boutique, and ascended as the newly crowned Princess of Fashion.
The moment the crown touched her head, Rarity began to work miracles. The ponies witnessed her incredible beauty and fell to the ground before her in awe-struck waves.
Rarity reopened the schools, sent the ponies back to work, made afternoon tea and crumpets mandatory for everyone, outlawed ugliness and impolite speech, made fudge and spa visits available to even the poorest ponies, and tore down Canterlot and built up a new more aesthetically pleasing city in its place (which her little ponies insisted on naming Raritopia as thanks). Most importantly, Rarity permanently banned the making and wearing of leather.
Under her supervision, with Celestia and Luna ruling at her side, Equestria embarked upon a new golden age. Ponies experienced wealth and splendor heretofore unseen.
It was a satisfying but tiring life. Rarity, who had given so much, asked only one thing of her little ponies in return.
She asked for love.
Her subjects did love her. The daily spontaneous parades of ponies praising her name as they marched through the streets of Raritopia while singing and dancing and eating fudge and drinking tea and giving each other discount massages were evidence enough of that. But it was not simply the loyalty of her subjects that Rarity desired.
Rarity desired the joy that could only come from possessing the absolute devotion of another pony, from commanding the total attentions of another, from being the subject of the purest and most heavenly of love.
Rarity wished for a pony to spend her life with, her days and her nights. A lover who she could confide in, who could bear some of the weight of princesshood when the mantle became heavy, who could support her and who she could support in turn. She wished for a pony she would feel happy to wake up beside in the morning, and who she would look forward to cuddling to sleep come nightfall.
However, no pony capable of providing her with the love and devotion she deserved had ever appeared. Rarity had grown desperate and dissatisfied in the years following her ascension, even as her kingdom reached fantastic new heights. Now, the moon and stars and heavens all had confirmed that she would never find true love.
And so, Rarity wept.
“Oh, Rarity,” the moon and stars and heavens all hailed her, “Benevolent Mother, Defender of Glittery Glamour, Most Deserving Princess and Much More Capable of Enacting the Duties of Princesshood than Twilight Sparkle, we beg of you, do not despair!”
“How can I not?” Rarity asked between tears. “You have just told me that I will never find love.”
“We told you that no pony is worthy of your love, and that is true. Your beauty is matchless, your grace is without peer, and the salacious curves of your body are unequaled in all lands and in all time. No, there is no pony worthy of your love.”
“Friends, why do you continue to taunt me?”
“No pony will ever be worthy of your love,” the moon and stars and heavens all declared for at least the third time, demonstrating their continued irritating habit of repetition and dramatic tension. “However, there is one who tries. She will never be worthy of you, as no pony ever can be. But still she strives. She does not, cannot, will not concede defeat. She is your champion, and she fights for you even now. Her devotion to you is without equal. She wishes as strongly to be your lover as you wish for a lover. She is strong and loyal and sexy. She will be your wife.”
Rarity’s tears dried. “Moon and stars and heavens all, thank you! Thank you so much for this revelation! But, please, what is my champion’s name, so that I may find her?”
“Patience, oh Princess,” the moon and stars and heavens all rumbled, “for she comes to you. You will meet her on this very night, in this very castle, on this very balcony, after this very somewhat long sentence.”
With that, the moon and stars and heavens all fell silent and refused to answer her pleas for more information, showcasing another of their irritating habits. This time it was their unreasonable inclination towards dramatic irony.
Rarity went into her bedchambers to prepare herself. She washed the tears from her eyes, removed her mourning dress, and put on a breezy night robe that would give her the appearance of having taken a chance stroll out onto the balcony just before going to bed. A lady must never appear desparate.
She returned to the balcony and waited for love to find her.
After untold hours, and having to delay Celestia from raising the sun twice, Rarity spotted a sparkle of color on the horizon.
It appeared as a shimmering mirage at first, appearing and disappearing, flitting between dreams and reality, a bit of orange at the tip of the mountains, red over the Eastern forests, green skimming the surface of Lake Belle. But soon it grew larger, more distinct. Rarity saw that it was a pony, a dainty yet lithe pegasus. The pegasus wore a shining set of armor that shimmered in the starlight. The pegasus’s face was concealed by a helmet, yet a vibrant and wild mane trailed out behind her and flittered in the wind.
Rarity instantly became enamored with the pegasus knight. The pegasus flew effortlessly, with an unmatched command of the unpredictable winds. She moved so intimately with the motions of the wind that the two appeared as one, and her dives into the air were like red wine spilling into and intermixing with currents of a rushing brook. The wind dipped and the pegasus fluidly dropped with it, and then she flared her wings and the wind roared and carried her skyward, and the wind spun in a vortex and she spiraled down to the balcony.
The pegasus knight hovered just over the balcony and looked down at Rarity, and Rarity watched and knew the time had finally come.
The knight removed her helmet, and Rainbow Dash flashed Rarity a smirk.
“Rainbow Dash,” Rarity called up to her, concealing her excitement and keeping her princessy voice impressive but pleasant. “I have been expecting you.”
Rainbow Dash dropped onto the floor of the balcony with a noticeable thud and lay down into a submissive bow. “Oh Rarity, Your Royal Hotness, Jewel of Whatever, Most Deserving Princess and Obviously Way Better than Twilight at Everything and Better Looking Too, I lay myself at your hooves. Command me, my lady.”
“Rise, my loyal knight,” Rarity commanded, pleased. “Rise, remove your armor, and allow me to examine you.”
Rainbow Dash obeyed. Her armor dropped to the floor with a clatter.
Rarity stepped around her, inspecting her new knight. She hadn’t had much time for her friends since she had become a princess, and it shamed her to realize how little she had seen of them in recent years. But Rainbow Dash appeared just as Rarity remembered. She still possessed that easy natural beauty, unyielding confidence, and lewdly attractive and toned muscle structure which Rarity had so long envied.
Rarity stopped in front of her and smiled. “Why have you come to me this night, darling?”
“Rarity, I…” Rainbow Dash hesitated and bit her lip, but then a sudden change came over her and she stood straighter and looked Rarity right in the eye. “Rarity, I’m in love with you.”
Rarity suppressed an excited giggle and only raised a curious eyebrow instead. “Oh?”
“Yeah, before you became a princess, we were really just kids and I—” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Well, I was a kid. You were always way smarter and hotter than everypony, and especially smarter and hotter and more deserving of becoming a princess and getting a castle and having a prince for a brother and an empress as a sister-in-law than Twilight. But I was so stupid then, and I never noticed how much better your were than everypony else.” Dash sighed, but then grinned. “Then you became a princess! And I saw you, really saw you for the first time, and I realized that you’re the most beautiful and intelligent and talented mare that I’ve ever seen, and that I loved you, and that I’ve always loved you, and the only reason I never made a move before was because I was obviously just young and stupid and ignorant of my own feelings. I realized that I would do anything to be with you.”
“Oh?” Rarity said again. She could tell that she had wholly ensnared Rainbow Dash’s heart, that Rainbow’s love was pure and her devotion absolute. But it wouldn’t hurt anypony to let her soon-to-be lover dangle on the line for bit longer. “I am flattered, dear, but I have many suitors, and not all of them pursue me for unselfish motives. Do you have some way of proving your devotion to me?”
“Well, uh, I got you a gift.” Rainbow Dash drew a nervous hoof through her mane. “I know you’re way hotter than any mare who’s ever lived, and especially Twilight, and that you deserve a gift that’s way better than any gift that anypony’s ever gotten.” Dash reached down and rummaged around in her armor. “So I hunted down that pretender Twilight and cut off her head and brought it to you.”
“What?”
“Yup.” Dash pulled Twilight’s dismembered head out of her armor. Its eyes were white like eggshells and its tongue lolled out of its mouth like a purple leech hanging off a diver’s chin upon emerging from the water. Twilight’s head was drippy and smelly. It had a sparkly birthday ribbon wrapped around its chin and a bow stuck on top of its horn. Dash held it out to Rarity. “Here ya go.”
Rarity eyed Twilight’s head warily. “Have you been flying around with that in your armor this whole time?”
“Yeah. The horn was pretty uncomfortable.”
Twilight picked the dripping head up in her magic and examined it, maintaining a healthy distance. It didn’t appear to be a fake. At least, it smelled real enough. “You cut off Twilight’s head? For me?”
“It was a pretty awesome fight,” Dash said, stretching and yawning. “She shot, like, a bunch of lasers at me, and then we flew around for a while, and then she shot more lasers, and then I cut off her head. Yup. Pretty cool.”
“Is she dead?”
Rainbow Dash stared at her. “Does she look dead?”
“Well.” Rarity looked at the head again. Twilight did indeed appear to be dead. “Oh my.”
If this hadn’t been dream, Rarity’s initial reaction upon being presented Twilight’s dismembered head would have been to scream. Her second reaction would have been to thump Rainbow Dash upside the head with the… head (synonyms are hard sometimes, even for a princess) to incapacitate her and then go inform the authorities. She even would have waited at least a week before contacting Celestia about the open princess position.
But this was a dream, and while Rarity knew the act should have seemed horrific, it instead felt rather romantic. Rainbow would have faced terrible danger and hardship to procure this head, both physically and emotionally. Cutting off the head of a friend, and particularly a friend who was also an incredibly powerful mage, was no insignificant act. But Rainbow Dash had put herself through that trauma for Rarity, to prove her love. The thought of it sent poetic tingles down Rarity’s spine.
It may have been a bit messy and shortsighted, but Rainbow Dash was messy and shortsighted. It was part of her charm. If Rarity only wanted tidy and far-thinking, she had a hundred nobles to choose from.
“You do like it, right?” Dash asked, a note of worry in her voice. “That wasn’t easy to get, you know. And tying that ribbon around it was hard, too!”
Rarity stood straighter and wiggled her regal, alluring curves. “Yes, dear. I greatly appreciate this gift. I recognize it as a show of both your valor and the purity of your love. You are my champion.” She stepped forward and kissed Rainbow on the cheek, and Rainbow glowed like a filly who’d just gotten a gold star sticker from the teacher for cutting off her classmate’s head. “Unfortunately, as wonderful a gift as this is, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep it.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because this is not your head to give. It belongs to Twilight, and that is where it will stay until she decides otherwise.” With a flick of her magic, Rarity teleported the head away and restored it to Twilight’s body, erasing all trace of the wound. Because, obviously, Rarity was also unbelievably good at magic in this dream. Twilight would be back on her hooves and reading dull books and eating greasy hayburgers within the hour.
“Aw, lame! That seriously took forever to get off her.”
“And the next time you see Twilight, the very first thing you will do is apologize for cutting off her head.”
“Ugh.” Rainbow Dash groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
Rarity giggled and sidled up next to her. “Don’t sound so disappointed, my valiant knight. Your gallantry has won you the heart of a princess.”
“Well, duh.” Dash extended a wing over Rarity’s back. “That was a given. I guess you don’t want these backup presents I brought, then?”
“Of course I want them. What are they?” Rarity snuggled under Dash’s wing and felt warm. Her life was finally complete. She was a princess with a grand castle for a home and a courageous knight for a beau.
Rainbow pulled two more ribbon-wrapped gifts out of her wing. “A hunk of double chocolate fudge and a can of tomato soup.”
“Darling, you are perfect,” Rarity said, and grinned.
“Yeah, I am.” Dash nibbled on her ear, and then whispered, “So what do you say we break in this new can of tomato soup?”
“Absolutely,” Rarity said, and then she looked around and found that she was no longer standing on the balcony, but in her bathroom. She stood at the edge of her sunken porcelain-inlaid swimming pool-sized bathtub. The lighting was dim and a quivering harpsichord played somewhere nearby. Rainbow Dash lay in the bottom of the tub beneath her.
“Tomato soup me!” Rainbow Dash cried, wriggling on her back in the tub and rubbing her hooves up and down her chest and stomach and legs in a manner that was probably supposed to be arousing but reminded Rarity more of a fish out of water frantically itching itself. “Oh gods, Rarity, tomato soup me!”
Rarity held the tomato soup can up into the air like a baboon raising a confused newly born lion over a roaring crowd of carnivores in the savanna. Its lid had already been torn off.
She overturned the can.
There was a terrible schlopping sound, and then the can released a slow, semi-solid, circular, cold, pink-ish sludge. It stretched down away from the can and hung in the air like a teardrop of bulbous bug guts hanging out of the carcass of a beetle smashed on the ceiling, or a thick yeast-infected tongue hanging from the mouth of a sickly water buffalo.
Time stood still for a single perfect moment as the condensed soup slime hung motionless in the air. Rainbow Dash looked up at the can, breathless, legs shaking, eyes wide with desire. Rarity leaned away from the soup, turning her head. But she couldn’t look away, feeling both fascinated and strangely aroused.
The soup broke free from the can and time rushed downward. It splattered dead-center on Rainbow Dash’s stomach. It exploded into a firework burst of pre-cooked unheated tomato paste, dowsing Dash’s face and wings and the whole tub. Rainbow screamed. A second glob erupted from the can, smaller than the first, like glorious kingly afterbirth emerging triumphantly from the womb, and flew into Rainbow’s face. She screamed again.
But the tomato soup didn’t stop. A torrent of discolored unappetizing gumbo charged forth from the can as if possessed with the furious spirit of Poseidon, God of the Sea. Waterfalls, tidal waves, tsunamis stormed out of the can and poured down upon Rainbow Dash. She moaned long and loud and twisted and writhed about in the thick tomatoey deluge as the tomato soup rose around her. It filled the tub to the brim, and finally the fruit juice concentrate ceased effusing from the can.
“Get in here, Rares,” Dash breathed, chest heaving, eyes rolling, sweat and broth dripping down her face. “The tomato paste’s great!”
Rarity scrunched up her nose. “It most certainly is not! It’s not even warm—”
And then the temperature and humidity of the room drastically rose. Rarity felt as if she were standing in a sauna. Steam rose up around her. Beads of sweat and condensation appeared on her coat. Her every breath was hot and wet. The broth in the tub had turned from pinkish and gooey to hot tamale red and smooth as grandma’s gravy at supper’s first call.
Delighted, Rarity moved to step in, but stopped herself just before her hoof touched the surface. “Hold on just one moment,” she murmured, looking about herself.
“What’s up?” Dash asked, doggy paddling in circles.
“This is all very strange, isn’t it?” Rarity gestured at the tub.
“So?”
“It’s just all very strange.”
“Yeah.” Dash shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you have a food fetish.”
Rarity sighed. “What a distasteful thing to learn about oneself in a dream.”
“And I’m pretty sure you’re obsessed with me.”
“Obsession is a little strong, I think.” Rarity frowned and then smiled. “I prefer to think of it as an acute appreciation.”
“Whatever. I’m also pretty sure you’ve got some kind of really unhealthy complex going on over Twilight becoming a princess.”
“I do not!” Rarity stamped her hoof, and it reverberated all through the steamy tomato tub. “You can’t tell anything by a dream. Dreams magnify emotions. Like poetry. And my dreams are very poetic, as I’m sure you’re aware. You take part in them often enough.”
“I sure do.” Rainbow Dash grinned at her, and Rarity couldn’t help blushing. “But who cares? You’re a princess here. Do whatever you want. You can deal with all that other weird junk when you’re awake.”
Rarity considered that and then smiled. “An astute point, my valiant knight. I believe I’ll take this opportunity to enjoy myself. These worries can wait until morning.”
“Cool.” Dash doggy paddled towards her. “Now hurry up, already.”
Rarity stepped down into the bath and submerged herself in hot, thick, pulpy tomato broth. It went up to her neck. It felt brilliantly smooth and warm against her coat. The sweet smell of tomatoes was heavy in her nose. Moving through the bath was like moving through a heavenly pool of calming syrup, and Rarity instantly relaxed.
Rainbow dash swam up beside her and splashed her neck.
“Not now, dear,” Rarity said, voice languid and lazy. “Let’s just soak for a moment.”
They waded to the side of the tub and rested their backs against it. Rainbow Dash pressed close to her, laid her cheek on Rarity’s neck. Rarity wrapped a drippy red hoof around Dash’s shoulder. They lay close together in easy silence. Tomatoey wisps of steam rose up around them.
“Rainbow,” Rarity said, voice quiet, “do you think waking life could ever be like this?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Rarity frowned. “Could you and I ever be like this?”
Rainbow Dash stayed quiet.
Rarity gave her beloved a small squeeze. “Darling, did you hear me?”
Dash shrugged. “I think you’d have to offer me something pretty awesome to get me to swim around in a bathtub full of soup with you.”
“An evening alone with a beautiful mare wouldn’t be reward enough?”
Dash stayed quiet again.
This time, Rarity knew Dash had heard.
Hot, sudden anger took Rarity, and she growled and kicked at the tomato broth. It splashed on her face. “Dreams are such wretched things,” she said. “Revealing to you what you want whether you could ever have any chance of getting it or not.”
Rainbow Dash turned to her. She kissed Rarity on the cheek. Rarity knew it wasn’t real, but it felt soft and comforting.
“I’m sorry,” Rainbow whispered. “Ask me again.”
“Would the answer be any different the second time?”
Dash smirked at her. “Only one way to find out.”
“All right, then.” Rarity smiled and sat up straight. “Rainbow, do you think waking life could ever be like this?”
Rainbow Dash moved away from her. She turned and stood in front of her, tomato broth dripping from her coat. She looked hard at Rarity, and all the playfulness and softness was gone from her face. “Rarity, I’m not Rainbow Dash. This is a message from you to yourself.”
“Okay,” Rarity said, surprised. This had never happened before.
“Rarity,” Dash said, and her voice was firm, almost angry. “You’re not a princess. You don’t have a castle. You’re not friends with the moon and stars and blah blah blah. Rainbow Dash isn’t in love with you.”
Rarity blinked. “Oh.”
“Those are what you’re not,” Dash said, and grinned. “But here’s what you are. You’re Rarity. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are talented. You run your own boutique. You design outfits for some of the richest ponies in Equestria. You’ve saved Equestria, like, ten times. You’re Rarity, and you don’t sit around and wait for good things to happen to you. You’re Rarity, and you make good things happen.”
“But…” Rarity hesitated. “It’s so hard sometimes.”
“What the hay would be the point of doing it if it wasn’t hard?” Dash stamped her hoof, and broiling, newly-inspired tomato broth surged up around her. “You think you deserve to be a princess? Then take the first train to Canterlot in the morning, march straight into the Solar Court, right up to Celestia, and you demand your crown. If she tells you no, then stop asking and make that finicky, favorite-picking bitch give it to you. And”—Rainbow Dash stepped forward so that their faces were close, and Rarity could feel Dash’s breath on her lips, and Dash lowered her voice—“you wanna fuck Rainbow Dash? Then do up your mane, put on some perfume, drink a glass of wine, throw her onto your bed, and rut that oblivious obnoxious featherbrain senseless.”
Rarity blushed. “My subconscious is awfully crass.”
“I’m serious, Rarity!” Dash huffed. “If you like her so damn much, then ask her out on a date. If you care so much about being a princess at least talk to Twilight about it. It’s stupid and pathetic to sit here daydreaming about what you want when you could be out there doing something to get it.”
“Do you really think Rainbow would say yes?”
“I’m you, doofus.” Dash rolled her eyes. “You think so. You know so. You’re awesome and you know it. Maybe she will say no. Who cares? That’s her loss. But why would she? You’re hot, you’re cool, and you kick ass. What the hay else could she want? Rainbow’s already not picky about her meals, and you might as well be a choice cut prime rib.”
“Ponies don’t eat prime rib.”
“I don’t care!” Dash shouted. “You’re Rarity! You don’t sit around and wallow in self pity—er, well, you do. But once you’re done with that you get off your ass and take care of business!”
Rarity found herself nodding. “You know what, you’re right. I mean, I’m right!”
“When you wanted to open your own boutique, did you sit around and cry about it and make up weird imaginary conversations with yourself?”
“No,” Rarity said. “I bought the old carousel building and made it into a boutique.”
“And when you wanted to design for Angelique Ronce, what did you do?”
“I went to her office in Manehatten every day until she agreed to see me and my designs. And now she’s one of my most regular customers!”
“Yeah!” Dash cheered. “And now that you want Rainbow Dash, what are you gonna do?”
Rarity jumped up onto her hooves and screamed, “I’m going to rut that oblivious obnoxious featherbrain senseless!”
“Uh, you should probably ask her out on a date first.”
“Oh, well, yes, of course.” Rarity composed herself. “But she’s going to say yes!”
“Yup,” Dash said. “Just as long as you still have that mane.”
“Absolutely—wait, what?”
“Your mane.” Dash bopped her on the head, slinging tomato broth about as she did. “You’re definitely going to need that mane of yours.”
Rarity frowned, and heated tomato paste slipped down onto her face. “You believe it is that important?”
“Oh yeah,” Dash said, and nodded dramatically. “You have that mane and you’re set—rut all the Rainbow Dashes you want. Otherwise…” She shrugged to show all the terrible, unspoken things that didn’t involve rutting Rainbow Dash that would befall her if Rarity lost her mane.
“Well, if you’re certain.” Rarity fixed her soaking mane as best she could. “All right. I’m ready. I will be a princess! I will find love!”
“As long you have that mane.”
“Yes, of course. That has been established.”
“I’m just making sure you know. That part’s really important.”
“Well, I do know,” Rarity snapped. “Could we move along now? This really has gone on far too long.”
“You’re ready!” Rainbow Dash cheered. “Go make yourself a princess! Go rut a Rainbow Dash! Now wake up!”
Rarity woke up, then. Her veins burned with a determination unlike anything she had ever before felt. Precious prized princesshood and raucous Rainbow Dash rutting would soon be hers.
Just so long as she had her mane.
